


And in the winter night sky, ships are sailing

by voices_in_my_head



Category: Captain America (Movies), John Wick (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (because James definitely has an old soul), 5+1, Crossover, my motto in life is: no one's ever heard of this rare pair? By God I shall change that, plus the dog is here and I love him, rare pairs, this is just old men being soft with each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 06:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17483363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voices_in_my_head/pseuds/voices_in_my_head
Summary: "“Most people run the other way when they hear guns,” the man said, and his tone was neither accusatory nor complimentary. It was like he was discussing the weather. James definitely shouldn’t have found it reassuring.James shrugged, which jolted the rifle. The man’s eyes followed the movement. “I’m not like most people.”"Or: 5 times James and John meet and John leaves and 1 time James asks him to stay.





	And in the winter night sky, ships are sailing

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of the trailer for "John Wick: Chapter 3" being released, I finally got myself to write the John/James fic I've been thinking of for actual years. I had a wonderful time writing it, so I hope you all enjoy reading it.
> 
> Thanks to Ceci, the real MVP, whose support makes half of my writing possible (the other half being chocolate and music).
> 
> This is canon compliant up until "Captain America: The Winter Soldier" and "John Wick: Chapter 2".

**1)**

James liked Chicago. It was a big city which meant that a man with hair that hadn’t seen a comb in far too long and that wore long sleeves even in summer, barely raised an eyebrow, much less actually left an impression. It was also one of the few cities in the US that James didn’t have any bad memories of.

Since the only jobs he could get with no papers were low-paying ones, it meant the area he lived in was a bit shady, to say the least. Chicago had a high crime rate and his neighborhood more so, so James had gotten used to the sound of people yelling threats and even guns being fired. However, assault rifles and during daylight?

James stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, immediately getting bumped from behind and receiving rude words for his behavior. He paid the man no mind and he quickly left him alone, though still muttering about James’ ancestry.

The noise was low enough for his ears that no one around him could even hear it.

The short time lapses between the guns being fired told James everything he needed to know about what was going on: someone was being hunted.

There really was no reason to involve himself. If experience had taught James anything, it was that innocence rarely played a part in these sorts of things. More likely than not, this was a gang dispute gone wrong. Or a SWAT team going after a criminal, though God knew it wouldn’t be the first time they went after the wrong person.

He had his own issues, James reminded himself. He hadn’t seen anyone obviously HYDRA in almost six months, since he’d gone to Canada and back, then Mexico and back, but he knew that just because it seemed they’d run into a dead end, it didn’t mean they were ready to leave one of their precious brainwashed assassins alone.

And on the other hand, there was Steve.

Captain America. Steven Grant Rogers. James knew that he meant him no harm, just as he knew that whomever the good captain was so obsessed in finding, wasn’t him.

Bucky Barnes had died in 1944. It said so in the Smithsonian.

James sighed. He hadn’t made it his life mission to save people, but he figured he’d done enough harm that it was only right to try and do something good. It wouldn’t undo the bad things, but if you had a chance to help and you didn’t… James figured walking away from someone who needed his help was almost as bad as doing the harming himself.

He took off running back from where he had come from, taking the first left he found. He found himself in an alley but only slowed down enough to take in his surroundings, immediately finding some wooden boxes left behind to help him boost himself to the top of the wall, and then it was just a matter of climbing a couple meters and then jumping across a couple roofs before finally finding himself atop the warehouse from where the shooting came from.

Correction; had come from. Things seemed to have died down.

James was usually happy that apart from a metal arm and a body that was stronger than most and could withstand more, HYDRA hadn’t really done much to change him – besides brain-washing him to forget who he was and freezing him for several years at once, of course – but other times he thought that if they had wanted him to be so much better than everyone else, they might as well have gone all for it. X-ray vision would have really helped in this situation.

The sound of a single shot, from a Glock, he thought, roused him back to what was happening.

James ran to a door and with a kick, got it o open. He probably should have thought better of the noise it would create, but from the grunts coming from the inside, the men – or women –  were too busy kicking the shit out of each other to pay attention to their surroundings.

The warehouse was, to no one’s surprise, abandoned. It was big and rusty and it took James two turns before he found the first body. It was a man, big, and dressed in what James thought was an expensive suit, or at least had been before it had been perforated by at least half a dozen bullets. He also had an Uzi across his lap, which James was quick to pick up. It was still loaded.

Holding it against his shoulder and with his finger just millimeters from the trigger, James slowly made his way closer to where the grunts were coming from.

Another shot. James was pretty sure that whoever was being attacked was giving it as good as they got.

James came across seven more bodies – all in similar states to the first – before he was on the ground floor and saw two men fighting each other.

Both men were dressed in suits, so James barely had any time to figure out which one was part of the gang he’d been following the trail, before the one in the better suit shot him across the belly. And then in the forehead as he was going down.

The man turned the gun to James, who thought he’d come in silently enough not to catch attention. Then again, the man had just killed at least eight people, it was probably more of a reaction than anything else to turn the gun to the entrance to the room.

James blinked at him. The man was older than him, at least by fifteen years, possibly more, it was hard to know with the lighting, had a beard well groomed, and was wearing a suit that could only be found in the type of stores that James couldn’t even make himself look at the price tag.

“You’re not one of them,” the man had a raspy voice. Whether from lack of use or exertion was hard to tell.

He was breathing hard; it was obvious that fighting all the men off had taken its toll, but the gun didn’t waver at all.

James’ didn’t either.

It took him a second but finally he replied. He figured there was a chance slim to none of either walking away without a bullet hole without first talking. “I’m not. I heard the guns and came to check out what was going on.”

“Most people run the other way when they hear guns,” the man said, and his tone was neither accusatory nor complimentary. It was like he was discussing the weather. James definitely shouldn’t have found it reassuring.

James shrugged, which jolted the rifle. The man’s eyes followed the movement. “I’m not like most people.”

The man looked back to his face. He blinked, “do you know who I am?”

James almost laughed out loud at that. Here he was, a ghost story seventy years in the making, and he was being asked if he recognized this total stranger.

“No. Should I?” He tackled on at the end.

“People with guns pointed at me tend to know who I am,” he said, and James couldn’t stop himself from smiling at that.

“I could say the same,” James replied and even though he was still holding the gun, he’d moved his finger far enough from the trigger for the other man to know that he wasn’t planning on shooting any time soon. The man didn’t follow his example, though from the situation they found themselves in, James couldn’t exactly fault him for it.

“Should I know who you are?” The man asked.

“I hope not,” James said and even though he got a raised eyebrow for that little comment, he decided to leave it at that.

They stared at each other for a few more seconds before the man finally lowered his gun, putting the safety on before moving it back, raising his jacket and fastening it to his waist.

James lowered his gun as well, though there was no place for him to keep it on his body and anyhow, it didn’t belong to him. Still, who knew what was coming next. He decided leaving it on the floor might be a too hasty decision.

“My name’s John Wick,” the man – John – said and James, for the first time in a very long time, offered his hand for a shake.

“James,” he got another raised eyebrow for that, though whether for the offered hand or for the lack of surname, was anyone’s guess.

Still, John shook his hand. His hand was callused from a lot of years handling weapons and his hold was firm, though he didn’t squeeze any harder than what was polite.

They let go and then an awkward silence descended upon them. What exactly were they supposed to do next?

“Well, I’ll be seeing you, James,” John said and started to move so that he could pass by James and be on his way.

James raised his eyebrow at his back but didn’t actually try to stop him, even though he had a lot of questions. John was long gone by the time he finally said, “yeah, be seeing you.”

Then he made his own way out of the warehouse. It would be just his luck to be brought in for murders he hadn’t committed.

.

**2)**

James didn’t forget about the man, but after a week he put him at the back of his mind, thinking that he would never see him again, even though he couldn’t help but to strain his ears whenever he passed not too far from the warehouse where they’d met.

The dead men hadn’t made the news which made James think that it had been crime related. Only very rich men could make bodies like that disappear without a trace and only a criminal would have reasons to want it so.

It made James curious, more than he’d been about most things in his life so far, but not enough for him to actually try and find this John Wick.

Instead, he worked in construction during the day and as a bouncer during the night. He didn’t need as much sleep as most people and he usually woke up from nightmares anyhow. Going to bed for only four hours every couple of days was the best way to keep them at bay.

It was gone five am when the club he worked at closed for the night and he was free to roam the streets of Chicago. At this time on a Wednesday, they were pretty empty, making James feel like he was all alone in the world.

It wasn’t a miserable thought. No one in the world meant no one to hurt.

Even though James could count by his fingers the number of people he usually passed on these walks, he wasn’t that surprised when he could hear someone’s footsteps behind him. Though when it had been ten minutes and James had taken four turns in sequence and they were still behind him, he finally decided that he was definitely being followed.

On the next turn, he waited for the person to copy him before grabbing them by their collar.

It was John. It didn’t make James lessen his hold on him.

“Hello,” John said which was… ridiculous, considering their positions. Still, James figured why the hell not.

“Hi,” he replied.

“You mind letting go?” John asked, not a trace of any type of uncomfortableness or fear in his voice. In fact, he sounded as if they were two old friends meeting up in a bar by coincidence after years of not seeing each other.

James ignored the request. “You were following me.”

“I saw you and got curious on why you’d be out at this time in the night.”

“You’re out too,” he replied and couldn’t help but to slacken the hold, though he still didn’t let go.

“Yes, but I know why I’m out,” John replied and he looked as comfortable under James’ hand as he imagined he would simply sitting on his sofa at home.

James blinked at him. He finally let go. If John was gunning for his head, surely he would have attacked by now. Anyhow, it was very hard to catch James unaware and it would take more than a couple meetings, especially since one had consisted of finding John in the midst of dead bodies.

“Why are you out, then?” James asked, figuring something along the lines of _“in for a penny”_.

“I like walking around at night. It’s one of the few times I don’t have to worry about being followed.”

James blinked again, “so it seemed smart to do the following instead?”

John didn’t answer right away, instead studying James’ face for several moments. James couldn’t help but to straighten out, though he stopped himself from moving his further feet apart, to get a better balance in case John attacked him.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to someone with a gun that wasn’t trying to kill me.”

There was a lot to dissect on that sentence. James wasn’t sure exactly why the fact that he had a gun was important but mostly he just wanted to know why people were after this guy. What had he done?

He asked out loud. Worst came to worst, John would simply walk away. And if he decided a fight was actually what he wanted, James would give him one too. John was good, but he wasn’t that good.

“It’s a long story,” John answered, but he didn’t move away so James couldn’t figure if he was fishing for a follow-up question or if he wanted the subject dropped.

The sun was rising and James had his next shift in less than two hours. He also hadn’t had a conversation that wasn’t about work or that involved him lying through his teeth in a very long time.

“There must be some place open for breakfast,” he offered and John sent him a smile.

“Maybe next time. I actually have a place to be.”

James did not in any way feel saddened by his words. His only reply was a nod and John turned to walk away.

“Hey,” James called for his attention. John turned back with a raised brow, though he didn’t walk any closer. “Why is it important that I have a gun?”

“It means we’re from the same world,” John replied, only loud enough for his voice to carry. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away.

James spent far too long staring at the empty sidewalk. What did that even mean? Had he figured out James was the Winter Soldier? Maybe he was ex-SHIELD, being hunted by HYDRA for not joining in with their world-dominating plans.

Somehow, James doubted it. John had been nothing but polite and slightly distant in their meetings, the perfect agent, but there was also a hardness to him that somehow made James think that this wasn’t a man that followed orders without questions.

He exhaled loudly from the nose. Accompanied or not, he still wanted breakfast.

James started walking away, refusing to pounder longer on John’s statement. Besides, something told him that they weren’t done meeting.

**3)**

 James hadn’t even been near his apartment – calling it that might be an overstament, considering it was a bathroom and a room with a sofa and a kitchenette – in two days but it was still obvious that someone had gone in. They hadn’t even tried to hide the fact that they’d broken the lock, leaving the door not fully closed.

His apartment didn’t really hold anything that important to him. The notebook where he wrote his memories was either with him at all time, or hidden some place safe, leaving in the apartment only clothes and a couple objects he’d picked up while travelling.

There was also a chance that the people who’d gone in, hadn’t come out and this was an ambush. It didn’t seem like HYDRA’s style. If they’d found out where he lived, they certainly could find him at either of his jobs.

Waiting a couple days – or whoever long they’d been waiting – seemed more up Steve’s alley and James clenched his jaw at the thought. It made him want to run away more than the thought of HYDRA waiting for him had, which was fucked up in so many levels James didn’t even want to think about.

But instead of running, he decided that it was better to go in and find out any clues about who was the closest on his trail. He crouched silently to take a knife out from where he’d hidden it between his boot and sock, getting back up slowly and with the knife in front of him.

The apartment also had guns if it became a necessity.

There was no point in taking a deep breath. James just opened the door and took a few steps in.

He stopped abruptly when all he saw was a man sitting on his sofa. John, who had his shirt off and was stitching his side.

James used a foot to push the door closed. John didn’t jump at the sound, though he did turn to James.

“You’re back,” he said, as if they’d agreed to meet or something. As if there was a logical reason for John to know where he lived.

There was a lot he could respond. _“You’re hurt”_ was an obvious one, _“how did you know where I live?”_ even more, and also more pressing, as far as James was concerned, but instead of saying anything, he put the knife on the coffee table and crouched by John’s side. He took the needle from him.

“You’re going to have an awful scar.”

John huffed a laugh, “don’t make me laugh.”

“Seriously, I don’t think there’s much you could do to make this any uglier,” James said and this time John sent him a smile.

He didn’t say anything else, so James took up the stitching without any more words.

HYDRA had had fancy doctors for whenever he got hurt enough to need stitches, but sometimes it had just been him in the middle of nowhere with the most rudimentary instruments. Not to mention the basic health classes he’d attended during his years in the army. Some things hadn’t changed that much.

It didn’t take long before he was finished and since he was afraid he’d cut more than just the thread with the knife, James had to move closer to John and cut the remaining thread with his teeth.

“I have some bandages,” he said and got up to go and get them from the bathroom.

He was in and out in a few seconds. He didn’t have any band aid big enough to cover the whole scar, so he unrolled the bandage four times around John’s stomach before using a couple band-aids as tape.

“Thank you,” John said and James nodded. There wasn’t any other place to sit but it was awkward to stand, so James sat down on the floor, against the wall and facing John.

“I have a lot of questions,” he started, and it was John’s turn to nod.

“I understand.”

James didn’t ask any of them right away, instead just studying John. He looked tired and he had an assortment of scars that told of a long life under threat. He had put both hands against his stomach and for the first time, James noticed that he had a wedding ring on. It was surprising; not what he had expected at all, but then again, why should he have already made assumptions on a man he barely knew?

John didn’t start the explanation unprompted and James sighed, passing a hand through his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shaved and staring at John’s perfectly cared for beard was pissing him off.

“When did you follow me home?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Not when we last saw each other,” James said, not turning it into a question. Still, John shook his head.

“No, I saw you a couple more times. And then… I was just walking behind you, but suddenly you entered this building and I connected the dots.”

“And that led you exactly to my door instead of any of the other twenty in this building?”

“I got curious,” was John’s reply which was just… James shook his head, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Over a year running from HYDRA and here he was, being followed by some secret assassin, or whatever it was John did.

“And this seemed like the best place to convalescence?”

“I ran into some people less than two blocks from my apartment. I didn’t want to lead them there,” he paused, to which James raised an eyebrow. He hoped it was obvious that he was asking _“so you led them here?”_ “I have a dog. I didn’t want them to find him.”

James blinked. John had said it with such a serious face that it took James a few tries to fully understand what he’d said. He had been worried for his dog’s sake, so he had come to James’ place to stitch himself.

He couldn’t help it; he started laughing.

“I’m glad they didn’t go after your dog,” James said once he’d calmed down, which didn’t take all that long.

There was something in John’s eyes that made him think there was more to the story, but he left it alone.

“Since you’ve followed me home and then broken in, I think it’s time you told me why there are people after you.”

John nodded but he didn’t start right away. He moved a hand, the one with the wedding ring, to touch the most recent wound and James followed the movement.

“I said we’re from the same world, but I guess a better statement would have been that we’re from close-by worlds.”

James raised an eyebrow. “What, you from Mars or something?” He couldn’t help but to deadpan. John simply ignored the question.

“I’m an assassin for hire. Or, I was, before I retired. I got pulled back a year ago and the man whom I did a job for wasn’t willing to let me live. So I killed him.”

“And now people are out for revenge?” James asked, just to make sure, though it didn’t seem that far-etched.

John smiled, though it was more self-depreciating than anything else.

“He was considered an important man. Or at least, the position he held was,” he paused for a few seconds, “there’s a fourteen million dollars bounty on my head.”

James whistled at that, raising his eyebrows as well. “That’s a lot of money. No wonder people are after you every other day.”

John smiled, “it’s not so bad here. Maybe a couple times a month. In New York it seemed I couldn’t be out one hour without an attempt on my life.”

James didn’t reply to that. He didn’t really know what he was supposed to say.

So they were silent after that and James wondered if he should tell him his story next. Part of him thought it would feel like a relief, unloading his backstory to an almost perfect stranger; one who’d just told him that not only was there a lot of money in seeing him dead, but that he’d come from New York. Somehow, that one detail seemed the most private one.

He decided not to say anything, not right then. He wasn’t willing to think too hard on it, but he liked John to think of him as someone who was just walking on a close-by world.

“I should be off,” John said and grabbed his shirt from where he’d left it hanging on the sofa’s back. James didn’t try to stop him as he put it on. He grimaced from the exertion, but it was there and barely gone.

“You owe me breakfast,” James said once John was up. He thought about telling him to stay and rest for a while longer, but that sofa was the only place to sleep and he’d been up for close to fifty hours. Besides, there was something that told James that as happy as John was to let himself be stitched up, he wouldn’t be as accommodating to sleeping close to a near-stranger.

Thought strangers didn’t exactly help each other with stitching up a wound, did they? Maybe in their world.

“For the breaking in or the healing?”

“The second one. For the first, you owe me a fight,” James smiled with his teeth, “don’t worry, I’ll wait for the stitches to come out.”

John raised an eyebrow at him. Then he smiled. It wasn’t a shark’s smile like James’ had been, but it told of his own dangerousness just as well.

“I’ll come by on Sunday morning for breakfast,” John promised and then he walked to the door.

Once he’d opened the door, James told him, “bring the dog.”

He didn’t get a response but as John closed the door behind him, James leaned his head on the wall and smiled for no good reason. Then he remembered the lack of a lock.

“Shit,” he said and got up. Hopefully he’d be able to either fix it or get someone nearby to do it. Should have made John get a new one.

.

**4)**

John’s dog was a grey Pitbull who took one whiff at James’ palm before licking it and moving so that his head was underneath it, placing himself in the best position to be petted. James understood John’s reasoning of not wanting the men who were after him, to find Boy.

Boy, because John had decided that since that was what he’d called his dog for the first days after getting him – from a vet which he’d broken in to stitch himself up and there really seemed to be a pattern to his life – he might as well keep it.

It was completely ridiculous. James refused to find it endearing as well.

It hadn’t taken long for the two of them to find a diner that accepted dogs, though they’d received some dirty looks by the lack of a muzzle. Still, no one had bothered him. James had low-key been interested in seeing John’s reaction if they had. Would he simply stare them into submission or fight them? It really was a coin’s toss which one he’d go for.

James liked diners. Usually the waiters were women and no matter the age, they called him “kid” or “son” and he called them “ma’am”. The food was good and cheap and half the people in it were regulars, the other half people that would never go back so a couple more strangers were nothing new.

James ordered pancakes while John ordered sausages and scrambled eggs. Boy just laid down with his front paws on top of James’ feet. He already had plans to steal some of John’s food and feed it to him.

They were silent for a few seconds after they ordered. James petted Boy while John looked outside the window. It was only after they’d both been served a mug of coffee, that James finally opened his mouth.

“How’s the wound?”

“Improving, thank you,” John answered, turning from the window to him. He looked serious and like he was giving James’ his undivided attention. He didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Anyone else make an attempt on your life this week?” James asked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tried his hand at small talk, but he didn’t just want to spend the whole breakfast in silence. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable between them, but something made James want to know more about John.

John shook his head, “no, but the week has just started,” he gave a smile at that and James laughed. It wasn’t even that funny. He guessed he just wasn’t feeling stressed.

Their food was served, and James let go of Boy to eat. They took the first bites in silence. John was the first to break it.

“It’s July and you’re wearing several layers. Which wouldn’t be that weird if you weren’t also wearing gloves,” he said and James chewed for longer than was necessary as he thought of the best thing to do next.

John kept eating, though he was staring intently at James. Was this a test? To see how far he could go before James shut down? Was he just curious? Or… did he also feel some type of pull towards James, making him want to know him better?

James moved his right hand to the left, pushing the jacket sleeve up, so that the metal was showing. He raised his eyes to John before hiding the metal again.

“You’re the Winter Soldier,” John said and he didn’t even sound that surprised.

“What gave it away?” James asked and he sounded more tired than he meant to. Boy made a sad sound in his throat and James lowered his left hand so that he could go back to petting. Eating with just one hand wasn’t easy, but he did his best.

John shrugged, “you do know your face is all over the internet, right? The Black Widow didn’t exactly leave many stones unturned when she dumped the whole of SHIELD’s database online.”

James leaned back, though not fully, not wanting to stop petting Boy. “So you’ve known all along.”

“Not right away. I was a bit busy deciding whether you were next in line for my head or not to realize why you looked familiar.”

“Right,” James replied and frowned. He didn’t even know why he was upset. Was he upset? For some reason this felt like a betrayal. Which was stupid. For there to be betrayal there needed to be trust, and James had only known John for a few weeks, could count in one hand the number of times they’d met. Yet, that didn’t make the feeling disappear.

“I should have told you I knew who you were. I’m sorry.”

James let a breath out, “not your fault. Like you said, my face is all over the internet.”

They were silent after that. James stole a piece of sausage from John’s plate and gave it to Boy, who happily chewed on it. He felt no guilt.

“Why Chicago? It isn’t exactly off the grid.”

James shrugged, “yes, but in almost three million people, it’ll be hard to find me. What about you? There must a country which hasn’t heard about the bounty.”

“You’d be surprised,” John said and smiled, “the crime underworld has contacts everywhere.”

James hummed at that. He ate a few pieces from his pancakes, thinking that he’d ask for another dose the next time the waitress went by their table.

He wanted to ask John about his life. But he was half afraid of the answers; afraid of the reasons John would give for killing people for money. Why did someone do it?

James had been forced to kill dozens of people. He remembered every single one. They kept him awake at night and more often than not, it was an effort to force himself out of bed when he was the reason so many people hadn’t had the rest of their lives to enjoy.

“You can ask whatever you want,” John said, still eating, still with that serious look on his face.

“Did you read my files?” James decided to ask first. John shook his head.

“I took a look but I wasn’t that interested in a ghost story.”

“So you didn’t believe I was real.”

“I did. I just didn’t believe there was a reason I should care,” he said it matter of factly and James couldn’t help a sardonic smile at it. Yes, why should he have cared whether the Winter Soldier’s horror stories were real or not?

“I didn’t become the Winter Soldier by choice. HYDRA took me and they brainwashed me into being their puppet. When I wasn’t on a mission, I was cryo-frozen.”

“How old are you?” John asked.

“I was born in 1917. Got taken by HYDRA in 1944. Only recovered my memories a year ago. I don’t know,” he shrugged, “older than I look,” he finally settled on.

John hummed. He finished his food. James decided he didn’t want more pancakes after all, though they both accepted a coffee refill when it was offered.

“You were forced into being an assassin,” John said and James nodded, even though it hadn’t been a question. He held his mug in both hands, feeling the warmth through the gloves. Even into the metal one and he thought he’d never figure out just how that arm worked. Boy had fallen asleep, no longer worried about being petted. “You want to know why I did it voluntarily.”

James wanted to say, _“I want to understand”_ but since even he didn’t understand how that was different from what John was saying, he kept quiet and just nodded again.

“There isn’t a good reason. My family wasn’t shot in front of me, leading me to a path of revenge. I went to the Army. I came back. A friend told me about a job. It was that simply.”

There was a bitterness in James’ mouth that had nothing to do with the coffee.

“I want to say I’ve never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it, but that depends on your point of view, I guess,” John frowned into his coffee. “I killed a friend. It was her brother who sent me after her. And he was the one I killed that got me the bounty on my head.”

“What goes around,” James murmured, not even sure why. He got a tiny smile back.

“You said you retired,” he said after a few more moments in silence. John had kept the frown on his face, like he was thinking of something unpleasant.

John looked surprised at him, like he’d forgotten where and with whom he was for a second. He nodded, “I fell in love. I wanted out.” He started playing the with wedding band on his finger. James looked down, then back up.

“Just like that?” James asked and didn’t know if he was asking about him being so ready to leave his life behind because of love or if he found it a bit disbelieving that he’d gotten out that easily.

“I had to give up a lot to get out but… It wasn’t right for Helen. She knew what I did, more or less. She knew it wasn’t legal, at least. She never asked questions, but it took a toll on her. It wasn’t a hard decision, her or the guns.”

James nodded. He didn’t follow it up with the obvious question following that, but John still answered it.

“She died of cancer over a year ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” James immediately said and meant it.

“It’s unfair, isn’t it? I killed dozens of people, never felt any guilt for it, and she’s the one that died far too soon.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” James countered. “I should know.”

John studied him for a few seconds. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Being here. I’m probably everything you hate.”

James frowned. What?

“I chose everything you didn’t.”

James exhaled loudly. The mug had gone cold in his hands.

“I don’t hate you for it. I don’t understand it,” he frowned again, trying to get his thoughts straight. John just waited him out in silence. “A lot of people have been cruel to me. Some not even because they felt like it. Just because they didn’t seem me as a person,” he stared at John, “you haven’t been cruel.”

John shook his head, though whether at himself or James, was unclear. “That doesn’t erase what I’ve done.”

“No, it doesn’t,” James said and there must have been something in his voice, because suddenly John put a hand on top of one of James’. The metal one.

“You didn’t have a choice. We’re not the same.”

James exhaled loudly. John didn’t let go.

“I still did them. Choice or no choice… is it really all that different?”

John frowned and this time James felt like it was for him. “Some would say there’s all the difference in the world.”

James didn’t reply right away. “You’ve been kind,” he finally settled on. He didn’t know what else to say. It was the truth. It didn’t make John’s actions okay but the only other thing to do was to judge him and walk away. James was tired of judgment and he didn’t want to stop meeting John.

John stared at him for some seconds. Then he moved his hand, up to James’ face. He rubbed at the stubble there. James had to force himself not to close his eyes at the feeling. God, how long had it been since someone had touched him without the intent of hurting?

“You deserve nothing but kindness.”

They stayed like that for some seconds. Then John got up, took out his wallet, left some bills on the table, got Boy up with his leash and said, “I’ll be seeing you” before leaving.

James exhaled. A couple people around them were staring at him. He guessed a diner in the middle of nowhere wasn’t exactly the most obvious spot for two men being… what? Something that James wasn’t ready to look very hard into.

He was glad John had left. This all felt like too much. He drank his cold coffee before adding some bills to the ones already on the table. Then he left the diner.

.

**5)**

James didn’t see John for two weeks. It wasn’t like after the first time they’d met, when he’d thought of John occasionally. Instead, he was being haunted by him.

It was stupid. They barely knew each other.

But he couldn’t stop remembering his words. _“You deserve nothing but kindness.”_ And the way he’d touched his face, drilling the words home even more.

James didn’t even know what he wanted from John. It had been such a long time since anyone had touched him with such softness. If John had leaned over the table to kiss him… What would James have done?

He’d never actually kissed a man. He’d given blowjobs and hand jobs and received them, and a couple times fucked or been fucked, but no kisses. That just wasn’t something you did back then, not unless you were ready to throw out pretty much everything you were.

Idiotic. How was a kiss the worst possible thing they could have done? And how was it the thing that he now couldn’t stop thinking about? John’s beard would definitely leave a mark. James wondered if he’d like it if James ran a hand over his hair.

One thing he knew for sure: there would be no coming back from it. Not because he’d be kissing a man for the first time; God, what would it say about him if he cared about that when he’d killed so many people? No, it wasn’t that. It was the fact that he would be showing a part of himself that no one had seen for a very long time. On further thought, no one had actually seen James like this.

The only soft moments he could remember were from his life as Bucky Barnes. For the last seventy years there had been one to… love him. Not all his handlers had been cruel, but they certainly hadn’t been kind either.

James half wanted to never see John again and just bury all this sentiment. There was a war inside himself. He had done such terrible things; he didn’t deserve good things. But at the same time he wanted it in a way that he hadn’t wanted something in a long time.

Not sex. Not even the kisses. Just someone to hold him. Someone that wouldn’t judge him, just say _“it’s okay, I’ve got you.”_

God, old age was making him sappy.

It was close to four AM on Friday, when he finally saw John again. He was coming back from the club and John was leaning against his apartment’s building. He had one foot bent at the knee, against the wall, and he was looking up.

James approached him silently. For a few seconds, he felt like running away. There really wasn’t anything in the apartment that he couldn’t do without. But God, what if he never saw John again? It wasn’t like they’d shared phone numbers – James didn’t even own one! – and who even knew if John was his real name. He didn’t think it wasn’t but there really was no certainty.

“Hi,” he said and John looked down at him, unsurprised by his approach.

“Hello,” he said and nothing else after that. It was unfair; he’d been the one to come to James and now he just left the ball in his corner?

James refused to look at it as a kindness. As John telling him without any words that James was the one in charge, he decided where to go next, or where not to go.

“Are you hurt?” He asked and John shook his head.

They were silent again. They simply studied each other. John’s beard and hair looked as prim as ever, but he looked tired in a way he hadn’t before. There were circles under his eyes.

His wife had died over a year before. How long since he’d been running?

“Do you want to come up?” James asked and he didn’t know what the hell he wanted from it but suddenly it was imperative that he didn’t let John just walk away from his life.

Maybe he didn’t deserve good things but god damn if he hadn’t suffered too much to just let them escape without putting up at least a fight.

John nodded and James went up first. They climbed the three flights of stairs in silence, the only sound being their breaths.

James unlocked his door; it had been fixed weeks before. He went in, let John in and then closed the door behind them.

They were both standing, just staring at each other. It was ridiculous.

James was the Winter Soldier. HYDRA was after him because they weren’t willing to let their perfect weapon be and Captain America wanted to find him because he thought he was going to find Bucky Barnes.

But Bucky Barnes was dead. Now there was just James.

He came very close to just jumping John. Attacking his mouth. But that was a thought that went as fast as it came. It wasn’t the way he wanted to do this.

He closed the distance between them very slowly. John followed his movements with his eyes, not moving away.

James put a hand on John’s cheek, just like John had done to him at the diner. John closed his eyes, leaning into it. James let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He wanted to say something. _“I feel like I’m drowning.”_ He didn’t even know why he was thinking these words, but it was all that was in his head.

And then John opened his eyes and instead he thought _“oh, there you are”_ which didn’t even make any sense, but it didn’t need to.

John put both hands on James’ face, rubbing both thumbs just below James’ lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked and his voice sounded raspy. It had been a while since he’d heard him like that.

James nodded but John didn’t move right away. So he forced the word out, “yes.”

John didn’t attack his mouth either. Instead, he moved very slowly, like even hearing the yes out loud wasn’t enough. Leaving James more than enough time or space to move away. The hands on his face weren’t even forcing him to stay in place. It was a very light touch.

Finally, John closed the distance. Just lips on lips. James must have been younger than fourteen the last time he’d shared such an innocence kiss.

John moved his lips against James’, who followed his lead. He felt his body lean forward but John kept him in place with his hands. James still had one of his on John’s cheek. He moved it to his hair, not grabbing it forcefully, just to have a hold of something.

John hummed against his lips and James couldn’t help but to smile. It made for a weird situation in a kiss, especially since he couldn’t stop it, so John moved back. Just enough that they wouldn’t get their eyes crossed looking at each other. They were still holding each other.

“Hi,” John said and smiled too. James’ smile grew.

“Hello,” he replied. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and dropped his head completely onto John’s hands.

He felt so many things at once he didn’t even know where to start untangling them.

James had another brief thought about pushing John onto the sofa and climbing onto him. Finally attacking his mouth like he’d thought about before, ripping off his buttons to get him half naked. But it was a brief thought again.

He was tired.

“You should go feed Boy,” he said, opening his eyes.

John studied him for a while. Then he took off a phone and offered it to James, “it only has my number on it. Use it whenever you want to. If you want.”

James nodded but didn’t make any promises. He didn’t know why. Half of him wanted to take his words back, hold onto John and never let go but he also knew that there was a lot happening to him at the moment and that he needed some time alone.

John kissed his forehead and then left. James went to the window and saw the sun rise.

.

**+1)**

James left Chicago. The trip to Kansas took over half a day and he didn’t even have a good reason for choosing that city. But two days after kissing John he’d thought _“I’m not in Kansas anymore”_ , started laughing for no reason and been stared by the other builders and decided he needed a break from the city.

He took the phone with him, but left everything else in the apartment. He’d be back.

Wichita was and wasn’t that different from Chicago. There were still plenty of tall buildings, but not as many as in Chicago. Less people too. Less music, which James hadn’t even thought of as a constant in Chicago until suddenly it was nowhere.

James could have chosen Wichita to settle down instead of Chicago. It would probably be more off the grid, as John had put it. And then he never would have met John. It was a thought that made his stomach squirm, but not enough to go back.

He didn’t know what the hell he was looking for in Wichita, Kansas. But he didn’t know what he wanted in Chicago either.

Was this going to be the rest of his life? Running from HYDRA and from Steve, as if they were one and the same?

Steve deserved closure at the very least. James wasn’t Bucky but he had his memories, and no one did stubbornness like Steve Rogers. It didn’t matter if he had to search for James for one year or for ten: he’d just keep going.

And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to talk to him. Once he accepted James wasn’t Bucky, surely, they’d have enough in common to have some type of… friendship. Both men out of their time. Steve would be kind.

_Kind._

A word James hadn’t though for a very long time. And now it was everywhere.

James sat outside a small café and took out the phone John had given him from his pocket. It was a burnout one, pretty cheap. For how long had John been carrying it?

James came very close to calling him, but decided against it in the end. It had been less than three days since the kiss. John had told him to take as long as he needed. He probably hadn’t meant several months, but a couple days was definitely okay.

Still, he wanted to hear his voice. Not to talk about the kiss or men with guns, just banal things. He wanted to know how Boy was doing, if John had finally punched someone for looking at his dog the wrong way. He wanted to know what John did during the day, when he wasn’t busy looking over his shoulder.

Hell, he wanted to be there to share his day. The good and the bad.

James got up and went to pay for his lunch. He had a long trip ahead of him.

.

The trip back to Chicago took about the same time as the one to Kansas had, yet it felt far longer. James didn’t feel like escaping his own skin, instead he wanted to jump off the train and run alongside it. He felt free in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

He guessed that’s how you knew you were happy around a person. It didn’t feel like a chore going back to them at all, instead it felt like flying.

It was almost three in the morning when the train arrived, but he still texted John to know his address. As he walked towards getting a taxi, he got a reply.

Smiling down at his phone, James got into the taxi and gave the address.

It took less than twenty minutes to arrive in front of John’s apartment building. It was in a slightly better off neighborhood than James’, though not by much. He still had to stop himself from running up the stairs all the way to the twelfth floor. Instead, he took the lift.

The ride up felt like an eternity.

He knocked on the fourth apartment on his right. He got two replies: Boy barking and John opening the door.

He smiled, “hello.”

“Hi,” John replied and smiled. He moved so that James could go in. James did and then pecked him on the lips. The door hadn’t even been closed yet.

“Hi,” he said again, for no good reason.

John didn’t repeat himself, instead closed the door. Then he moved closer to James and held onto him with both hands on his waist. His thumbs were moving around his hipbones.

“I went to Wichita,” James said.

John raised an eyebrow, “how was it?”

James shrugged, “I prefer Chicago.”

John smiled and James moved to kiss him again. John met him halfway and this time it wasn’t a quick peck. It felt like their first kiss. Slow and exploratory and not demanding at all.

Now, James let himself feel grateful for the way John treated him. Not like he was made of glass, no, but leaving him completely in control of how things went between them.

John let go and put his forehead against James’, who came very close to saying “hello” another time, but decided to accept the silence again.

“Captain America has been looking for me for over a year. I think I’m ready to meet with him.”

John moved back so that James could see him nod. John moved a hand up to James’ hair, moving his fingers through it. James had taken the hair out of its ponytail halfway through the train ride and hadn’t bothered to put it back in.

“Ok,” John said.

“Do you want to come with me?”

John studied him for some seconds. Then he smiled, “however far you want me to go.”

James knew that this was getting as corny as the films he very occasionally caught glimpses of in stores, but he still couldn’t stop what came next, “what if I never want you to leave?”

“Then I’ll never leave,” John immediately answered. As simple as that. “But Boy comes with us.”

James smiled, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

John smiled back, then hugged James to his body. He didn’t say _“it’s okay, I’ve got you”_ but the sentiment was there all the same.

James exhaled loudly. It felt like going home.

 


End file.
